"What—that poisonous bounder?" She rolled up her eyes. "My che-ild!"
"But you let him make love to you."
"Did I? I suppose you were there," observed Miss Gaymer witheringly, "disguised as a Chinese lantern!"
"Well, what did you do, then?"
"He asked me to be his blushing bride," said the unfeeling Miss Gaymer, "and tried to grab my hand. I squinted down my nose, and looked very prim and sweet, and thought we had better be getting back to the ballroom, and he could talk to Mr. Marrable in the morning. If that's your idea of allowing people to make love, dear friend—"
"But you—you—promised to marry him!" said poor Hughie.
Joan stared at him.
"Do you mean to tell me, Hughie," she said slowly, "that he told you that?"
"Yes—with one or two corroborative details. That was why I had to tell him—everything, you know. It was the only way, I thought, to choke him off."
"O—o—oh!" Miss Gaymer wriggled indignantly. "The creature! And when he heard I had no money, he cried off?"